


Snowflake

by oneiriad



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneiriad/pseuds/oneiriad
Summary: "Amnesia, then," and Len nods to himself."That's what we figured - except, the next day you didn't remember the first day. So we figured it was some sort of memory thing, like that guy in the movie where he'd actually killed his wife himself? And then the third day you started cursing me out in really dirty Latin and didn't know how light switches worked, which is when we finally started to get half a clue."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt for Coldwave - amnesia au. Which it isn't quite, but still.

The time stream is like a kaleidoscope.

There's no up and down, no then or now. You're trapped in a whirlwind of nothing, pulsing green and blue, as worlds pass you by, images and sounds and scents of lives yours, yet not yours.

It is madness incarnate and you can't get away.

At one point, a bright red streak whirls past you, and you reach for it, grasping for something you'd half-remember as familiar if anything could be remembered in this place - in this place where there's nothing but time and therefore time has lost all meaning - but it has passed you by and is long gone before you know it.

Leaving you trapped in time.

***

_When Cisco finally manages to pull Len out of the time stream, all Mick feels is overwhelming relief. Len is trembling, barely standing, and his fingers are digging into Mick's arm to let himself stay upright, breathing too quickly and looking around himself as if he's never seen the inside of S.T.A.R. Labs before - but he's here and he's alive and he's quickly regaining his usual cool._

_All will be well._

_And then Sara pushes her way forward, halfway runs up to Len and wraps her arms around him - and Mick can feel his friend stiffen, can feel his fingers that had only just started to loosen their grasp, dig into his flesh with renewed vigor as the other man tenses._

_Len lifts his free hand, pushes the flat palm against Sara's chest until she's an arm's length away. He raises an eyebrow at her and his voice is a drawl cool enough to freeze a man's bones - "I don't believe we've been introduced, Miss?" - and something's breaking in Sara's eyes, but Mick doesn't have time for her, because there's something terribly wrong with his Len..._

***

It's the smell of frying bacon that drags Len awake. He lies for a bit with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of sizzling, to the sound of a fridge being opened and Mick muttering and closing it again, to the sound of eggs being cracked.

Then he opens his eyes - and abruptly sits up, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings even as he grabs behind himself with his right hand for the weapon he knows must be there, only to find nothing but air and somewhat messy sheets.

"Your gun's on the nightstand to your right."

Len closes his hand around the handle of the cold gun, taking comfort in the faint chill emanating from the power core. Then he swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up properly, taking a moment to familiarize himself with the lay of the land.

He's in a fairly large, one-room apartment, somewhat sparsely furnished. Two single beds sharing the nightstand and halfway shielded from the rest of the room by some low shelves, a cluster of a large sofa, a small table and a large TV, and a small kitchen area where Mick's currently making breakfast. There's a window leading out to what he assumes must be the fire escape, a door left ajar leading to what's presumably a bathroom and an elevator door that's presumably the entrance to the apartment.

He takes a moment to appreciate how his bed has been considerably placed to allow him to immediately scan his surroundings for possible danger.

As if whoever placed it knew he wouldn't remember this place when he woke up.

"How are you feeling, Len?"

He looks back at Mick, at him shovelling generous helpings of scrambled eggs onto a pair of mismatched plates.

"Not nearly hungover enough for this to be a blackout," he eventually offers, carefully gauging Mick's reaction to his words. No surprise. Definitely not just a blackout, then.

Mick's next words only confirm it.

"What's the last thing you remember, Lenny?"

"The Oculus. I told Sara to get you to safety and then the Time Bastards came..." and after that things are somewhat hazy. Then he realizes what he just said, what he remembers doing, and tenses, anticipating Mick's fists repaying him for that hit...

Except when he looks at Mick, the asshole looks downright perky. Like that time when Len arranged a heist that required them to break into a fireworks warehouse just in time for Mick's birthday.

"Gonna come eat your breakfast while it's hot?"

His stomach grumbles encouragingly at him to get with the program. So he does.

He waits politely for Mick to finish off his plate before asking: "So - what happened?"

"We thought you'd died. That you'd gotten blown up alongside the Oculus and the Vanishing Point. So we went and killed Savage."

"Kendra killed him?"

"One of the times. We had to kill the bastard three times over. He made a nice torch," and Mick looks briefly smug at the memory.

"And then?"

"Then I went back to Central, to - well. I was going to tell Lisa... except. Well. Your pet speedster came to see me."

"The Flash came to see _you_?"

"Apparently the Ramon kid's a meta of some sort these days. Flash said he'd been seeing you floating about in the - whatever," and he makes a dismissive gesture. "Point is, we figured out a way to drag you back out of the Time Stream. Except you came back - a bit wrong."

Len waits for Mick to elaborate, then plucks at the sleeve of his pyjamas.

"Wrong, Mick? Are you trying to tell me if I take a peek I'll find that my cock's been replaced by tentacles?"

Mick snorts and just barely manages to not choke on his coffee.

"No. No, nothing like that," he finally continues. "Just - Sara went to hug you and you acted like you'd never seen her before."

"Amnesia, then," and Len nods to himself.

"That's what we figured - except, the next day you didn't remember the first day. So we figured it was some sort of memory thing, like that guy in the movie where he'd actually killed his wife himself? And then the third day you started cursing me out in really dirty Latin and didn't know how light switches worked, which is when we finally started to get half a clue."

"So - what is wrong with me, then?"

"Well, took 'em a bit, but what Rip and the eggheads finally came up with was this: you've become unstuck."

"Unstuck?"

"See, apparently there're other Earths out there, where everything's a bit different. Apparently, the Flash's been running back and forth between ours and a bunch of others for a while. Ramon nearly got in a fist fight with Hunter over that, actually, 'cause the kids've been calling them alternate Earths and Hunter insists they're something called 'aberrant stabilized time streams'." Mick's lips twists into a grin and for a moment, Len tries to imagine Cisco Ramon about to have a go at Rip Hunter. It is an amusing image.

"Are you saying I'm what? Jumping between different worlds?"

"Well - not all of you. The way they figure, when we pulled you out of the Time Stream, we didn't get a proper grip on you or something, 'cause something went wrong. We got your body, and we're pretty sure that's the one that belongs in this world, but the rest of you - it's..."

"Unstuck."

"Yeah - so every day you wake up with the memories from a different Leonard Snart. Sort of like that silly TV show you used to watch, with the guy who got stuck in other people's bodies, just - the other way around, you know?"

"I see," he says, frowning, "and how long has this been going on."

Mick looks embarrassed.

"About four months, Boss."

***

_Mick's not ashamed to say he took advantage of the double Michelin starred chef Leon Snart. Lenny would have done the same in his shoes._

_It wasn't until she'd told him that Leo was short for Eleonora that he'd figured out the funny walk had something to with her center of gravity. At least her Mick was still a Mick - unlike the Len he met three days later, whose Mick was apparently a Michonne._

_He ended up having to dredge up a bunch of how-to-ASL videos on Youtube, only to learn that Len was just as snarky an asshole with his hands as with his voice. At least that Len had been easy to handle - Lisa had come over and he'd followed her around and just listened to her talk all day. He'd been funny, actually - he'd startled and glared and signed rude things at Mick every time he'd dropped his tools on the floor._

_Len Snart the genuine superhero was just plain weird. Mick ended up handing him off to the Flash and his lot for a playdate and went off to drown his sorrows instead. What sort of a name is "Citizen Cold" anyway? Sounds like a communist or something._

_He never learns the name of the Lenny that starts screaming before he's even opened his eyes. Just screaming, loud and shrill and like he's in impossible, bone-deep, horrible pain, and he doesn't stop until Mick knocks him out. He keeps him sedated for three days, worrying that he'll miss_ his _Len, but unable to shake off the memory of that scream._

***

He feels a bit better coming out of the bathroom - clean and dressed in fresh clothes, covering him like armour against the world. Covering skin that he just spent an embarrassingly long time examining, twisting his neck to look at his back in the mirror - trying to remember the history of each and every scar. He'd really needed the shower after that.

As he walks, he rolls his shoulders, trying to tell if his body feels in any way unusual, different, wrong - but either it doesn't or it's impossible to tell from the inside.

Mick watches him from the sofa, some news show playing unseen on the TV with the sound muted.

"Why aren't we on the Waverider?" Len demands as he sinks down in the sofa next to Mick, accepting the beer he's offered.

"We were at first - until the third time you woke up and tried to throttle Hunter before breakfast. After that, they figured it'd be best if you didn't stay. 'Sides, most of the time you didn't even remember the Waverider or the rest of the goody two shoes - the Professor did a whole speech about it'd be good for you to be in a less stressful environment."

"So we're back in 2016?"

"Back home in Central City, yeah."

A thought occurs to him.

"Where's Lisa?"

Mick actually smiles at that.

"She's fine, Lenny. She and Peek-a-Boo are on a girl trip to Paris this week. Said something about stealing you the Mona Lisa to make you feel better. But she visits. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You don't - always remember people, Lenny. Sometimes you remember people funny, the way some of you really don't like the Hunters of their worlds, and sometimes - it's like some people just don't exist in some of those worlds, you know?" Mick sighs and drains his beer before continuing. "I figure most of them got tired pretty quick, when you're looking at them like you'd never seen them before in your life. So they don't come around much."

"But you're here?"

"Yeah - it's funny, actually. There still hasn't been one of you who didn't sort of know a me. Makes a guy feel all - special."

Len snorts at Mick's wraggling eyebrows and nearly gets beer up his nose. It takes him a moment to compose himself.

"Lisa visits, though?"

"Most weeks. Calls ahead first to get the all clear, you know?"

Len nods and leans back, letting his shoulders settle against the arm Mick's slung over the back of the sofa.

"What are we doing to fix this mess? You say I wake up a new person every morning - have I tried just staying awake?"

"First thing we tried, once we figured out what was happening. Pumped you full of stuff to keep you awake, but in the middle of the night, you just collapsed. Woke up wondering where the airships had gotten off to."

"I see. Is there a specific time it happens or is it random?"

"Exactly in the middle of the night. Halfway between sunset and sunrise - and before you ask, we tried to trick it, flying round the world ahead of midnight in the Waverider. Didn't work. You just collapsed when the time came in Central."

"Right," and Len ponders this. "Is the same thing happening to the other Leonard Snarts? Are they all playing musical bodies or are they just taking turns visiting me or?"

"We don't actually know. The Flash ain't been to that many Earths and he's only spotted a Leonard Snart on one of them, except he's been kinda inaccessible, what with being mayor of Central City and surrounded by bodyguards all the time, so - we don't know."

Mick shrugs at Len's raised eyebrow.

"I take it this Mayor hasn't been by?"

"Not that we've noticed. Sorry."

"So - what _is_ being done?"

"The eggheads spent a bunch of time trying to figure out how to put you back right, except - then there was a mess with some aliens and another mess with a rogue Time Master, and none of their ideas actually panned out. So…"

"So nobody's doing anything anymore." He supposes he shouldn't be surprised.

"Well - not quite."

"Not quite?"

"Sara, she - you know how she spent some time being dead? Apparently, she didn't come back quite right either that time, so that Arrow fellow had to bring in a wizard he knew to fix her. So - she went off and fetched the guy, had him take a look at you."

"Mick, are you telling me that we're so desperate that we've had some Harry Potter wannabe sniffing around?"

"Less magical boy wonder, more snarky British guy. You liked him, and anyway, Sara vouched for him."

"And what did Merlin have to say for himself?"

"Well, he agreed with what the eggheads thought had happened to you, except he talked a lot about dimensions and alternate planes of existence and astral bodies."

"But clearly he couldn't fix it," and Len leans back again, closes his eyes.

"I didn't say that."

"Well, clearly it hasn't been fixed," Len grumbles.

"No. He did some stuff - stuck you in the middle of a fucking pentagram, that sort of thing - and at the end of it, he said he couldn't drag the right Snart back here, that his magic wouldn't be able to tell which one's the right one, because they're all you. But from what he was saying, it seems like he thinks there's only a limited number of other Earths - as in, there's a shit-ton of them, but sooner or later, he figures you'll wake up as our Len."

"And that's it? Just wait for it to fix itself?"

"Nope. You'll still be unstuck - as in, you'll be gone again the day after that."

"Well -that's not very helpful."

"Constantine figures he can make you stick, though - once you're back in your right body. We just have to be absolutely sure it's the right you, 'cause you probably can't be unstitched again after, and we don't want to risk our Lenny getting permanently lost - somewhere else, you know?"

"And he'll be doing this out of the goodness of his heart?"

"Hell, no - the guy wants paid. Apparently, he collects magic stuff and needs some professionals to go and - liberate a few bits and pieces. We're doing three jobs for him once you're yourself again."

"Why wait?"

"'Cause we'll need you for the heists, Lenny. You're the brains of the outfit, remember?"

"How very convenient for him. We'll just have to sit and wait for time to fix me right up and then he can swoop in to take the credit and even get our services free of charge."

"I told you, Lenny, Sara thinks he's on the up-and-up. And his magic's something else - he did a demonstration, 'cause Flash's crew and Hunter doesn't believe in magic either. Pity you can't remember it - he made ol' Rip all upset, stuttering about "impossible" and "violating causality" and stuff. It was beautiful."

"Fine. I can see this guy's managed to get all of you to fall for his spiel…"

"You too, Lenny."

"… so I guess I'll have to go along with this plan of yours. For now. One question: how are you planning on telling when I'm the right Leonard Snart?"

Mick grins.

"Well, we figured you'd be the one to make that call. Seeing as you're the smart one."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Len demands, abruptly getting to his feet.

"Well, ask questions. Watch TV, use the internet, go bother the Flash and his lot. See if anything feels off, if anything feels right. Don't ask me, I'm just the muscle, remember?"

Len tilts his head, frowning at Mick's suddenly exaggerated dumb-guy grumbling, wondering how some of their past versions of this conversation must have gone.

"And what happens if I do decide that I'm the right Len?"

"Then we call your pet speedster and he flashes off to pick up our sorcerer from wherever he's gotten off to."

"Harry Potter's not hanging around? Waiting for his moment?"

"Guy's got other stuff to do - and it's been nearly three months since that consult. Anyway, you just need to decide by nightfall at the latest, 'cause Constantine'll need a bit of time to get his stuff ready, you know?"

***

_"Mick?"_

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

_"My cold gun looks different. It's subtle, but…"_

_"Might be from three weeks ago. You spent half the day taking it apart, grumbling about inferior technology. Said you'd left yourself a couple of nifty surprises."_

***

_"Mick?"_

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

_"I think this might not be my world."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I just found a video of the Flash on Youtube, except - well, his costume was all wrong and he seemed shorter."_

_"Yellow and red? Looks like someone sliced off the top of his hoodie? That's the new one. That West girl whose blog you follow calls him Kid Flash."_

***

_"Mick?"_

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

_"Do you think I'm this world's Leonard Snart?"_

_"You might be. At least, you haven't looked at me funny for not being a horse yet - that's a good sign, right?_

_"A horse? On second thought, I don't want to know…"_

***

_"Mick?"_

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

_"Have I ever come close to thinking I was the right Snart?"_

_"You've made the call twice - s'why we'll owe Constantine three jobs instead of just the one. First time you changed your mind before he even got here, second time it was when he walked through the door with Sara and you'd expected her to be a black chick."_

***

_"Mick?"_

_"Yeah, Boss?"_

_"Make the call."_

_"You sure?"_

_"Yes."_

***

The time stream is like a kaleidoscope.

There's no up and down, no then and now. You're trapped in whirlwind of nothing, pulsing green and blue, as worlds pass you by, images and sounds and scents of lives yours, yet not yours.

It is madness incarnate and it's tilting.

The whirlwind is speeding up, is becoming a funnel, and suddenly there's a down and you're falling, as the world around you speeds up, as it pulses around you, tearing you apart and smashing you back together like a jigsaw puzzle laid by an angry toddler. And you're trapped, as it pushes you down, ever down, like some demented version of being born - or perhaps of being shat out, considering how your life's been going lately.

And then you wake up.


End file.
